


a true knight

by chiarascura



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 06:18:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18565651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiarascura/pseuds/chiarascura
Summary: post 8x02 scene, Brienne tries to go rest after. Jaime stops her.





	a true knight

Brienne felt weary. Eating, sleeping, and living in her armor wasn’t a new experience. But here, in Winterfell waiting for the Night King, it weighed on her shoulders differently. Even the high of being knighted had worn away, and emotions muddled her head. 

The other men had drifted into silence. Some were clearly lost in their thoughts without concern for the immediate presence. She cut her eyes to the side, where Jaime’s gold hand rested on his thigh while the other held his cup of wine. Hands she knew, hands she had seen do terrible and wonderful things-- 

A grunt from her other side drew her attention to Tormund, whose intense stare she could feel on the side of her face. She faced the fire once again and drank deeply from her cup. 

Maybe a short rest would help refresh her mind, clear her thoughts. Her intention to find her bedroll earlier that night, to center herself and focus, had been waylaid. Warmth suffused her chest again. She wouldn’t change her decision to stay. She would take this weariness and exhaustion as a low price to pay. 

But now seemed a good time to go and rest. She stood, offered a goodbye. She locked eyes with Pod, who nodded solemnly. She would find him later, he was her second for the coming battle. She glanced at Jaime for just a second, the briefest acknowledgement that didn’t do justice for the gift he had given her. He deserved more, a better show of gratitude, but she didn’t know how. She didn’t know what would happen if she tried. 

Tormund tried to reach for her. She sidestepped and swept out into the hall. He didn’t have bad intentions, but if this was her last night in this life, she would rather spend it alone. 

The pit of her belly swooped, and she paused. It felt… wrong. To be alone. To leave, without saying anything else to Jaime. Like a string was tied to her navel and drew her back. He had come to Winterfell because of what she said, he had offered to serve under her in the upcoming battle, he had… knighted her. 

His appearance had surprised her. She thought he would come to Winterfell at his sister’s side, leading an army to help them fight. Instead, he was alone, and no one else was coming. He had said he came to Winterfell to fight with her. To fight under her. 

As if drawn by her thoughts, footsteps sounded behind her. “Brienne, wait.” 

A warm hand reached out to grasp her forearm. The slightest pressure urged her to turn towards him, but she remained angled away. Something swelled inside her, and she knew if she faced him directly… in fact, she didn’t know. Regardless of what she told herself, she couldn’t help but turn her head toward him. Her eyes skittered across the hallway, across his armor, glancing down to see his hand, and finally back up to his face. 

Something in his eyes… New and unfamiliar, both. A warmth that emanated when he gave her Oathkeeper and said he was proud of her, when his gaze followed her leaving the great hall that morning, when she knelt before him. When he had confessed the truth of the Mad King, and trusted her with that all-consuming secret. And here it was again. It lit a twin flame in her own breast. She couldn’t look away. 

“I need to try and get some rest,” she said. Her voice was much quieter than she expected. She cleared her throat. “We don't know how long it'll be until we can rest again. If we can again.” Jaime’s gaze was too much. She glanced around the hallway, unable to settle but unwilling to look where she wanted. His armor was dark, his hair streaked with gray. Things had changed so much since they met, and yet. She wondered if the golden lion lurked beneath the surface.

His grip tightened on her arm, his hand warm. “Wait, please. Just…” His voice quavered, and she looked back at him. 

What was this feeling? Something unnamed grew in her chest. The heat in her face felt like embarrassment, an emotion she knew all too well. Her heart pounded beneath her breast, like she was facing certain death. Her palms grew sweaty, her mouth was dry. These were not new, but. All together, with the fluttering in her belly. The combination, that was new.

She had to leave. To re-center herself, to focus on the battle and not on the warmth of Jaime’s hand, the intensity of his eyes. 

“Ser Jaime,” she said, tugging gently at her arm. 

He did not let go. “Ser Brienne.” 

The words were so simple, so matter of fact. That was her name now. Ser Brienne. The floor beneath her feet shifted, and the swell of emotion she couldn’t name overtook her. 

He had done such a powerful thing. Said her name, and recognized her as a knight. He had shifted her whole world, like she hadn’t rejected the idea years ago because it had been denied to her. As if she hadn’t seen the horrors real knights had done, to her and to smallfolk everywhere. As if she could be part of that. 

Ser Brienne. 

Her eyes focused again on his own, where he hadn’t ever stopped looking at her. 

Without thinking, she reached up to pull on his breastplate, bringing their bodies together. She leaned down and pressed her mouth to his. 

What an unfamiliar feeling. It was simple, just a chaste kiss. And yet, that twist in her belly, fluttering in her breast, that heat in her face, all of it added up to something new. Something that ignited as their skin touched. Jaime. 

He pulled his head back, and her heart stopped. She had a split second for the fear and uncertainty to rise, but before it could overcome her, he said, “I love you.” 

She froze, realized her eyes were closed, and when she opened them, Jaime’s eyes had that warmth still. Love?

Her breath left her lungs, and her shoulders shuddered. She pulled them back together and kissed him more fiercely, knowing this was truly not a jest. Not a jape. Not a mockery. 

Their armor clanked together as he released where he still held her arm, and brought both of his hands up to touch her face. The sound rang in her ears under the blood thundering in her body, her heart pounding, Jaime’s suddenly labored breathing. 

He made the smallest noise, stifled pleasure and more please and yes gods, and Brienne smiled. She pushed gently on his breastplate and took four steps forward, pressing him into the wall and leaned her weight into his. He made that noise again, and it sent a bolt of pleasure through her. For the second time in a day, after years and years of scowls or frowns or neutrality, she smiled. 

His mouth was fire under hers, his hands scorched her cheeks, his body solid and stable. She catalogued each sensation, consuming her thoughts in its newness. His real hand caressed her cheek, soft like he was holding something precious, and his gold hand rested as a reminder of his mortality, of what he had given up, of what he had done for her. 

Someone in the hallway cleared their throat. Brienne pulled back, jerked back to reality. She didn’t turn her head, kept looking at Jaime’s face, now slack and slightly stunned. “What is it?” she said.

Tyrion’s voice drifted over. “You may want to consider somewhere less public,” he said. A simple warning, a cover of protection. None of the sharp wit or veiled insults she might have expected. 

“Do you have quarters?” Jaime’s voice was soft, just a breath. He looked up into her eyes and Brienne nodded. 

“I do.” She hadn’t appreciated Sansa’s gesture when she received the gift of a room to herself. Now, she sent a silent prayer up to the gods. 

Jaime grinned. She had seen his smile, the feral one used before butchering Vargo Hoat’s men, the relieved one at returning to King’s Landing, the tentative one in the yard earlier that day. This one… it lit up his whole face, crows feet wrinkles tightening and love shining through his bright eyes and lips slightly parted. 

“Let’s go. I certainly don’t want my brother to see the rest of this.” 

A laugh bubbled up from inside Brienne, and it was so unnatural. She covered her mouth instinctively. Jaime reached up to pull her hand away, lacing their fingers together. She watched their linked fingers, warm and rough and calloused. 

She took one step back, leaving their hands entwined but putting space between their bodies. She turned to give a curt nod to Tyrion, and planned the quickest route through the castle to her chamber. 

They were silent as they walked through the halls, and his voice startled her as they entered her chamber. “I meant it, you know.” 

He loved her. What does one even say to a declaration of love? She swallowed, instinctively tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was firm on hers. 

“You must know, before all this goes up in flames tonight. I love you. You are the most honorable, the most loyal, the fiercest, the only true knight in all Westeros. I love you.” He used his other hand to turn her to face him, then lifted it to tilt her chin. His gaze was steady, intense, blue. “If nothing else, I know this. Ser Brienne of Tarth, I would be honored to spend my last hours with you, fighting for you.”

Despite the constant chill of winter, her entire body felt aflame, down to the tips of her frozen toes and up through her still-blushing face. Tears welled in her eyes. “I love you, Ser Jaime.” She turned to press a kiss to his gold hand, and closed her eyes. 

She wanted to say more. She wanted to tell him how much he had changed, how he had changed her in turn, that they made each other better people and she wouldn’t trade their experiences for anything in the world. The words stuck in her throat.

He exhaled and leaned up to kiss her again, soft and delicate and not a kiss she would have expected two soldiers to share just before their deaths. It was a kiss a suitor might have given his lady love, a chaste kiss of courtship, a kiss she never thought she would know. 

Jaime kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her.


End file.
